The Worth of Wasting Time
by Rdr2
Summary: A Jedi Master and his apprentice go on a fishing trip. COMPLETE


_**The Worth of Wasting Time**_

_Timeline:_ 31 years after the Battle of Yavin

Angela Marshair ignited her lightsaber and twirled it effortlessly through the air. Its glowing blade hummed melodically, resonating with the whirring of the _Nebula Dancer_'s ion engines. She stood in the chilly cargo hold, garbed only in a light homespun robe, her cloak and robes cast off and lying unattended on a storage cylinder in the corner. All that she cared for was the weapon in her hands.

Its tip dipped at her command, cut to the left and then back to the right with a mere shift of her finger. That was one of the advantages of the weightless blade. Unlike weapons with mass, the lightsaber's beam could be turned and directed with the lightest of touches, the subtlest adjustment of the wrists. But without mass in the blade, it was almost impossible to correctly judge the position of the weapon without keeping a constant eye on it. For those unaccustomed to the unusual sensation of swinging the equivalent of empty air, it was a disconcerting experience.

But Angela mastered the weapon—beyond the norm of most Jedi. Other Jedi relied on the Force to guide their hand, to compensate for the lack of kinesthetic sensation to serve as a locant for the blade. Angela's Master, Ran Tonno-Skeve, taught her how to find the blade without the Force. To use the Force simply to control a lightsaber was a weakness, he told her often, and one that far too many Jedi do not realize. He showed her the techniques, the absolute control of the body, skills that served as well as the Force.

She used those skills now. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even, the Force divorced from her consciousness. The green blade spun in a tight, fast circle, creating a glowing shield around her flank. She moved that spinning sword in front of her, behind her, and back to her side. She stopped the blade parallel with her body, tip down and hands widely spaced on the hilt. It was a neutral stance of her own devising, designed to center her and leave her in the best position to switch from style to style.

The tip curved up, flowing into Shii-Cho, the most basic lightsaber form. It transformed into Makashi, evolved into Soresu, dropped back into Shii-Cho, and leaped into a combination of Ataru and Djem So. The hours passed by in mindless exercise, her consciousness strangely silent, yet also aware of every speck of dust moving through the cargo hold.

Then she heard the cargo doors open with a heavy clang, interrupting her training. She stumbled ungraciously from Makashi. She bit out a soft curse as she quickly extinguished her weapon, fearful of cutting herself on the hot blade.

Ran Tonno-Skeve sauntered up to her, a hand on his hip and near his lightsaber. A crooked, devil-may-care grin was splashed across his dark face. "Your footwork needs improvement," he said casually, "though you've picked up the basics of Shii-Cho and Makashi very quickly. Those tricks I taught you must have made handling a lightsaber easier."

Angela smiled and nodded. "Yes. It's a lot easier for me to judge where the blade is. I think I'll be ready for more lessons in Ataru and Djem So."

Her Master shook his head, his long, black locks bouncing. "Not yet. Those forms require more experience with a blade, especially Djem So. Remember, that's a style that requires the fastest of reflexes, even more so than Soresu. You won't be very good at redirecting blaster bolts if you're too slow to deflect them."

"Master," she argued with a pout, "my reflexes are as good as they're going to get, short of using the Force. And you've always taught me to rely on my own skill, instead of the Force, when using a lightsaber."

"Which is why you should continue your lessons and reflex exercises with the preliminary forms," he said with finality. "I've absolute confidence in your abilities, Angela. I know that you can master Djem So and all the other techniques in a day—if you used the Force. I want you to be able to do them without it."

She sighed and her shoulders sagged resignedly. "Yes, Master," she murmured.

He patted her gently on the shoulder and then smiled. "Look, we're about ten minutes out of Voga. Come on up to the cockpit. It's a nice view."

She followed him into the cockpit, settling herself into the co-pilot's chair. Outside the viewport was a green-blue world, made up of large rivers. There was not a single ocean on Voga, a little-known resort planet along the Mid Rim. It was a beautiful world, natural in its splendor. Her breath was taken away at the sight.

"Master, why are we here?" she asked. "I thought we were supposed to be awaiting new assignments from Master Skywalker?"

"I told him where to shove his lightsaber," her Master said offhandedly. She looked at once dumbfounded and aghast. He saw her expression and laughed. "Look, Angela, we've been running up and down the galactic lanes for the past three months. Its been hard-going, carrying out these missions: fighting pirates and bandits, bringing down crime cartels trying to milk on the instability of the Federation, and just in general keeping things together.

"Between our peacekeeping and your training, we're both on the ragged edge. You might not admit it, but I can tell. You're getting exhausted. You might not even feel it yet, but it'll crop up on you faster than you can blink. Remember that story I told you about the inattentive sheepherder?"

She nodded. "He lost his sheep because a wolf sneaked up behind him. The one he was supposed to watch out for was right by him the entire time."

"That's what fatigue is like. So we're going to take a break." He brought the _Nebula Dancer_ into an easy, practiced descent. "I've been saving up some money for this trip, and you're going to enjoy it, got it?"

Angela smiled and settled into her chair. "Yes, Master," she said obediently.

* * *

Angela had to admit that her Master's idea was a good one. She lay on the beach of a massive lake, her training robes traded for a provocative two-piece bathing suit. The sun was warm, but not too hot, for the large body of water cooled the air considerably. She closed her eyes and settled in for a long, relaxing nap. She was enjoying it immensely. Indeed, this was a good idea.

Suddenly, she felt someone tapping her forehead. She opened an eye blearily. Her Master stood over here, still dressed in his robes, holding a pair of wooden rods and a wicker basket. "Come on, featherhead," he said cheerily. "Get up, its time for training."

She blinked in confusion, sitting up. "Training? But Master, I thought we came here to get away from that sort of thing." She recognized the gear he was carrying as fishing equipment.

"Right," he said, lifting up the basket. "We're taking time off from normal stuff. No saving the galaxy for the next week, that's the plan. But that doesn't mean you should slack off in your training. Now, come along. Its time for another lesson." He turned to walk off, but then threw her a roguish wink. "Oh, and you might want to grab a cloak. Where we're going, it's a bit cooler. Lots of shade. No real need for something as promiscuous as that, though you certainly look nice in it."

He walked off. "Come along now, don't waste time, Angela."

The brown-haired girl just sighed. Her Master was an excellent teacher, open and kind, with a great store of patience and a way of connecting with people that was sometimes baffling as well as heartwarming. She particularly liked how he wove myth and legend into lessons on life. But he was so mercurial, so unpredictable. What possible connection was there between fishing and her Jedi training?

"Well," she groused, standing up, "there's one way to find out."

* * *

Angela did not change out of her bathing suit. She just threw on a short robe, belted it closed, and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. Then she followed her Master into a nearby forest. He led her deep into the woods, coming out at the edge of the trees, where the banks of a quiet stream bubbled southward.

Her Master settled down on the grass, set down the basket, and laid a rod across his legs. He busily strung the rod and took out a dead worm from the basket. Angela stood back, still trying to figure out what fishing had to do with training. He saw her standing there and patted the grass beside him. "Come on," he invited warmly, "these fishing poles won't get baited by themselves."

She sat down beside him and took up the other rod and a spool of strong fishing line. With inexpert fingers unaccustomed to fishing implements, she fumbled and failed to prepare her rod. After four unsuccessful attempts, she let out a growl of frustration. Her Master laughed merrily and wrapped his arms around her, guiding her hands through the motions of preparing a fishing line.

"See? This is how you do it," he explained patiently. "Tie it here, that's right. Remember to keep it taught when you wind it up. There you go. Excellent. There, now you're set." She felt his gentle hand patting her on the shoulder. "You can put bait on the hook without trouble, right?" he asked with amusement. She threw him a withering glare at his playfully condescending manner.

"I'm unused to this sort of activity, Master," she said through gritted teeth. "There's no call to make fun of me."

He patted her shoulder again. "I'm only teasing, Angela," he said lightly.

Angela finished slipping a worm on her hook and asked, "So tell me again what this has to do with my training, Master? How do you use one of these things, anyway?" She fumbled with the rod, trying to cast the line out.

Her Master stood and cast his line with the care of a veteran. "Like that. Don't lock up your arms so much, got it? There you go, good job. Now, about your training. You seem to be under the impression that hard work and study is all that is required in training. You want to master everything I teach you and you want to learn everything that seems like a lesson.

"But you've never expressed any interest in learning those things that _don't_ look like lessons." A puzzled expression crossed her face. Her Master smiled knowingly and continued, "When I say, 'I will now show you the footwork of Juyo,' you immediately want to learn it. That's good. But you don't want to learn anything else except those things that look like something out of a textbook. Far too many Jedi—far too many people—are like that."

"I don't understand what you're getting at, Master."

"Take a look at what you're doing right now," he said patiently. "You're fishing. You've never fished before, have you? I didn't think so. Actually, I've only fished a few times myself, but I enjoy it. I learned quickly from a good friend of mine—not a Jedi or a Force-user, but a normal person. He was very content with his life, while I, a Jedi, was foundering. I was so caught up in saving the galaxy that I never stopped to think about wasting time."

Angela blinked, well and truly confused. "Wasting time? What, you _want_ me to be unproductive?"

He shook his head. "That's not it at all. You need to appreciate the act of wasting time, what it means and represents. If you can waste time and still learn from it, then you've become a wiser person who is more able to master himself than any Jedi Master who has been running around doing missions his whole life."

"I still don't understand."

He chuckled. "No, I suppose not. But you will, eventually. Oh," he said with mild surprise. His line grew taught and pulled to and fro. "It seems I've caught something." He gave his line a hard tug, fighting the fish at the other end, but the line proved weak and snapped. The fish dipped into the water and vanished.

Angela looked at her Master sadly. "Guess this trip wasn't very fruitful."

"No, I wouldn't say that," he replied. "I didn't actually intend on catching anything. But you know, I learned something about catching fish today. Don't pull so hard."

Her brows furrowed. "Master, _I_ could have told you that."

"Yes, but you didn't and I didn't know any better." He was already setting another line on his rod. "So, you going to just stand there looking like you bit into a lemon or are you going to fish?"

Angela sighed and returned her attention to her line. It tugged suddenly. She felt a burst of breathless excitement as she fought the fish for dominance. She pulled and yanked with all her might, contorting her body this way and that, trying desperately to apprehend her feisty opponent. A cry of despair escaped her lips as the line broke with a sharp snap. A trail of bubbles was the only indication that the wily fish had ever existed.

"So much for dinner," her Master said ruefully. "I guess we'll be eating out tonight."

Angela harrumphed and crossed her arms under her breasts. She was not at all pleased. "This was a stupid idea, Master. You should be showing me things that Jedi should do, not fishing."

He patted her on the shoulder with infinite patience—infinitely condescending patience, in her mind. "In that state of mind, Angela, you won't learn anything. You get yourself worked up so easily. I was like that, too. It was the main reason why I foundered. But fishing taught me how to calm down, refocus, rediscover my priorities."

The brown-haired girl was not convinced. She understood his meaning well enough, now. Wasting time like this, in peace and quiet, was an exercise in relaxation. It was mindless activity that put the mind into a state of limbo. But she liked none of it. Activity had to be accompanied by active thought.

Her Master seemed to read her thoughts, for he said, "In ten years, you'll appreciate the worth of wasting time." He settled back on the grass, recasting his line. The slope of the riverbank was perfect for napping, and he was soon dozing off. "You'll come to enjoy letting things pass by, not having a care in the world. Perfect relaxation is the Jedi's shield against all the crises he'll be facing. So why not just lie back and enjoy it, hmm?"

Angela looked at him wonderingly, quite at odds with his words. But in the end, she sat on the grass. She did not lie down. "Wasting time does nothing for other people," she murmured. "The people we're supposed to be protecting."

"No, it doesn't," her Master agreed sleepily, "but we're not supposed to be protecting everyone from every little thing. If people come to depend on us too much, we're hurting them more than helping them. But if we just sit back and let life pass by, we'll know when to intervene and, most importantly, when not to."

"And I assume you have substantial personal experience to back up these claims?" she asked dryly.

He yawned loudly. "But of course. For now, let's just enjoy ourselves, all right? And then you can go back to sunbathing."

She frowned. "I'm still not convinced.

"You will eventually."

"…And what will you be doing when we get back, Master?"

He smirked. "What I always do. I'll ogle the ladies and have a drink. After all, I'm here to waste time."

She rolled her eyes. "Then you'll have wasted quite a bit of it."

He laughed. "I'm sure I'll have."

**The End**


End file.
